as stars fade from your eyes
by IzzyandDesRoxSox
Summary: ― and someday your world is going to come crashing in, and it's gonna burn you alive. But first, they'll make sure it's her before you. ― In which their luck was bound to run out, or perhaps it never even existed to begin with. Christa/Omid


as stars fade from your eyes

summary: ― and someday your world is going to come crashing in, and it's gonna burn you alive. But first, they'll make sure it's her before you. ― In which their luck was bound to run out, or perhaps it never even existed to begin with. Christa/Omid

**x x x **

[play]

"Have I ever told you that I feel like the luckiest man alive to have you?"

"Have I ever told you that someday I'm gonna have to put a damn limit on that since you tell me that all the time?"

Nevertheless, Christa can't help herself but to grin and god, she's never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Maybe it's the way her dark eyes twinkle, this glimmer, this little light within them that puts the summer stars to shame. Maybe it's the fact that they both have still found ways to smile, despite what the world around them had become. Maybe it's because of the luck that they still have one another when there are those left alone to wander and descend into some kind of madness in this world.

It's probably all of the above, or so he figures.

**x x x**

[pause]

Sure, he'll admit, perhaps he does say it all too often. But to Omid though, he still thinks the efforts aren't enough.

**x x x**

[rewind]

It starts in a coffee shop, like many of the modern day romantic novels seem to. However it doesn't follow the classic route of boy meets girl by casual glance, in fact it's quite abrupt, sudden, and not all that graceful.

She's sleep deprived and desperate for coffee that's blacker than black, whatever's the best this place has got, because god damn she could use a wake up call. She's just kicked out the man she thought she was going to marry out of her apartment after catching him with a woman whom he had once insisted to her was an old high school friend who was just 'dropping by'. In her own apartment. _'So don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.'_

He's the kind of guy who never reflects to the past nor fixates on the future. He stands content in the present, which is when he's got his nose buried deep in a book he recently purchased on Civil War battle strategies. _Of course._

They were two separate journeys who happened to meet by a crash course, all by accident or so they're sure.

Coffee in hand, she turns to leave and smacks straight into him as he stands in line behind her.

**x x x **

[pause]

'_Watch where you're fucking going! … Ugh no. Come on Christa, quit being such a grouch. It's not this guy's fault you're moaning and groaning like some kind of zombie.'_

'_Ahhh! What the heck? My book! No! Argh! Why can't some people just- oh..'_

**x x x**

[play]

The wind is knocked out of both of them as they crash to the ground. The rest just comes out of blur, just quick little snapshots both can piece together here and there.

Coffee spills and stains.

Fresh, crisp white pages of a book are ruined.

Countless mumbles of apologies.

_What? Is this some sort of scene others are waiting to play out? Why do people merely ignore them?_

Doesn't matter.

His hand extends out to hers, an offering gesture, and she looks up to the first time to find the petite Persian man with this look of sly amusement always on his face and an apologetic smile.

She graciously accepts his offer, takes her hand into his, and in that moment, in that instantaneous moment there was a spark.

**x x x**

[pause]

Suddenly, they both think to themselves, this day might've just gotten a little better.

**x x x**

[fast forward]

"How is she?"

An anticipated yet anxious grin, widened eyes filled with eager impatience, and oh how they can't bring themselves to say it.

If there was ever even a thought out idea about a worst case scenario for a response, it was just defeated now by the weight of dead silence. The eyes that look back at his are empty stares from glassy eyes and quivering lips, god knows whatever they just might've seen or done.

His expression falters, he furrows his brow, and pretends to not understand.

With a trembling, softer voice, he can't help but ask.

"Wh- where is she?" he asks, just barely above a whisper.

**x x x **

[pause]

In that moment he forgets to breath, placing his worries for her above his own basic life functions. His lungs ache but he doesn't care, his whole body has frozen stiff, his bloodline has gone cold. In that moment gravity disappears and he collapses onto the ground, numb at the impact.

There's some kind of ringing sensation in his ears, are there people calling his name? Is it the sound of a child crying? He feels like his world is closing in, or is that just a bunch of people surrounding him? Either or, _'go away go away go away please'_

**x x x**

For a split second, he waits on Christa. He expects to notice a familiar pair of dirtied sneakers stand in front of his face and a pair of arms struggle a bit to lift him off the ground and to his feet. He'll look up and there she'll be standing face to face with him with exhausted, somewhat annoyed eyes, by this little act. But then she'll smile and assure him everything is okay, he just needs to calm down, because everything is fine.

No it's not.

**x x x**

[play]

He's left on the ground, still, and hardly moving. Nobody wants to even bother doing a fucking thing like they half expect him to jump at anyone who tries to so much as coax him or touch him.

Omid doesn't realize it, not really, but within a few minutes he goes from delusional mumbles of denial to hysterical screaming.

Because she's not coming back. They don't even have to tell him anything. He already knows.

**x x x**

[rewind]

"_I'm scared."_

"_I'm scared too, baby."_

**x x x**

[rewind]

There were whispers that went around that they were being selfishs. Other sources argued and said that they were merely stupid. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into, what kind of world they were about to bring their child into, as if they hadn't been fucking aware for over these past months what's been going on.

It's the wary looks from others at the camp, when their eyes cautiously peer over the swell of her stomach, and this look in their eyes is like they all have the same mutual thought.

A pregnancy is a death sentence.

**x x x**

[play]

"_Fuck them, we'll prove them wrong."_

"_I- I know. I'm just worried, you know? About you and about the baby and-"_

"_I'll be fine. Okay? Nothing's gonna happen to me."_

**x x x**

[rewind]

Once upon a time, they used to be excited. They used to be a pair of young lovers with an unplanned, unexpected, yet already cherished little life that they could hardly wait to meet. They used to talk about names, both the best and the worst, they used to dream about the future that would soon come- not the one involving the dead rising- and worry about silly little things like not having enough diapers or painting the nursery room the wrong shade of color.

But then that, like many other things of the old world, were crushed by this new and unforgiving reality.

**x x x**

[play]

"_We uh… we're going to have a baby."_

"_Are you serious? Christa oh my god! Oh my god! That's- that's incredible!"_

**x x x**

[pause]

There was a time when he picked her off the ground and spun her around in his arms, despite their intial height differences, he didn't fail in strength. With gleeful smiles on their faces, she was giggling away as she clung onto him, and there were tears brimming in his eyes. There was nothing that could ruin this day.

Tomorrow was when he had made the mistake of turning on the television after leaving it on the news channel.

Maybe that was the world's way of mercy, by holding off until tomorrow.

**x x x **

[fast forward]

There's this unspoken rule between the two once they unofficially adopt Clementine and that's they don't ever discuss the events in Savannah. Ever.

The girl only had the emotional strength to tell them once what had gone on shortly after they were separated from Lee; which would end up being the last time they'd ever seen the man. That was something they had probably figured by that point so there wasn't too much surprise, but maybe telling yourself something is easier than actually allowing it set in or to actually witness it for themselves.

There's no problem talking about Lee, strangely enough. It's just his death, it's just when everything had to come to an end, that's where the line is drawn.

There's no trouble and teary eyed times when she discusses about the past and the moments that the two had shared, the adventures they'd endured long before the two of them had come along. There was a harsh storm that had certainly blown over them, just like Lee had more or less implied, but somehow there was an eerie feeling deep in the pits of their stomachs about the missing details that they would never know about. Especially if it was because Clementine was holding back or because there were still remnants of innocence left within that she didn't fully understand what really was going on, they can't really tell for sure. They'd rather not dive into the details.

Some things are better left unsaid.

**x x x**

[play]

Truthfully, if they didn't know any better, they'd say that they'd make a pretty damn nice family. For the first time in what felt like a long time, there had been a sense of peace, especially since the luck of coming across another camp.

There's this daily routine that's unofficially set in that the three of them follow without any trouble.

They even find themselves smiling and laughing once more, like things are finally getting better. Almost easier too.

Almost.

**x x x**

[pause]

Behind the face of a smiling man are haunted eyes with dark bags. Day after day it would seem the amount of nightmares increase for Omid, who tries his very best to not let them phase him. Yet they somehow have a way of getting at him one way or another with their eerie messages of the future, the way that they can twist even his happiest thoughts with the what ifs of worst case scenarios.

He's witnessed and dreamt of so much blood in his life that sometimes he swears when he closes his eyes he swears there's a familiar and unwanted shade of red there rather than black.

The surreal nightmares of childbirth horrors are the worst; when she's in this room that's hardly suitable to bring a child into the world, there are no decent medical supplies around or any sort of expert. She's screaming, covered in sweat and tears and blood, screaming his name over and over. She's begging for help, stars fade from her eyes as she grows more weary in her pain, and by the time a child's cry rings out it attracts an army of a thousand walkers to the little cramped room.

He finds himself gasping awake each and every time, struggling for breath and covered in cold sweat, trembling. The first instinctive thing to do is to glance to his side where her sleeping form is at, undisturbed by his noisy awakening, peaceful and ease.

_'See? She's fine. Stop worrying about her.'_

**x x x **

[fast forward]

"_Christa? Christa? Oh god there's… there's not enough time-"_

"_Just get this baby out of me please! Please! Just cut me open and save him!"_

"_Get them both out of here, okay? You gotta do this, you gotta make sure I don't turn…"_

"_But Omid-"_

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He… I love him… He knows… I.. he'll know. J- Just do it!"_

**x x x **

[pause]

It all started in a coffee shop with a sleep deprived girl and a bookworm boy, and neither one happened to be looking nor really caring for love at the moment.

It ends with two screaming babies and someone finally summoning the courage to tell the hysterical man on the ground that it was too late, nothing could be done, this was what she wanted, all that type of bullshit.

**x x x **

And to think they thought there was some kind of luck for them, that they didn't end also when the world ended.

**x x x**

[play]

He can't look at his own children, not yet. He just can't bring himself to do it, even though he knows it's not their faults at all. He has no idea he has a son and a daughter, all he knows is there are two children that will never know their amazing mother. They're stuck with a hysterical, barely-sane-at-the-moment, grieving father.

Clementine must've gotten the memo and didn't try to interact with him much, despite being rather attached to him. He's not quite sure where she's off to at the moment, he just knows she's close at least. He just doesn't understand.

Then it dawns on him, a painful and sickening realization, that perhaps she's grown used to this sort of thing.

**x x x **

[pause]

It's not because of the fact that she died that affects Clementine. She's seen plenty of people die within a short amount of time and the gruesome possibilities are endless; she's seen a barely living man with his legs brutally hacked off drag himself across the floor, she's seen a woman get shot point blank in the face before even so much as having the chance to scream, she's seen a boy not much older than her become reduced by a monstrous infection into a barely breathing, barely alive human as her last memory of him.

All the people she has ever cared about has died or more or less died in a sense- because Lilly could be out there somewhere after all, she's just not _Lilly_ anymore- so of course there's no exceptions.

Of course Christa would go too.

**x x x**

What really gets to Clementine is the location where Christa had died. In every other place where almost everyone else had died, the place was strangely appropriate. It brought an eerie sense of death or some form of despair. If it was too good to be true, it was quickly revealed.

But this place? This campsite which was a secluded part of the countryside was stunningly beautiful. Far prettier than the dairy farm, surprisingly safer, everything about it just screamed optimism. Christa wasn't supposed to die here, in fact death wasn't supposed to visit here at all. This innocent fantasy was supposed to be true for once, they were really living in one, and everything was supposed to be fine.

But maybe she should've stopped believing in things since Lee, the invincible protector in her eyes, died.

**x x x **

[fast forward]

He doesn't see the body at all. He can't do it, he won't do it at all. Never once does he make the effort nor dare himself to even toy with the idea. Somebody else does the favor for him and ensures that she doesn't turn, because god forbid she ends up for even the briefest second as one of those monsters.

She looks gruesome and unlike herself, he already knows it without ever actually seeing her; She'll be there lying cold, still, lifeless, almost asleep but with a face that was once scrunched up in too much pain to look anywhere near peaceful. Her face will be pale, bags underneath her closed eyes, covered in sweat and tears. Her body bloated and distorted, particularly her belly, which looks like a puffy, deflated balloon with a desperate incision made to save the life of the other child.

He doesn't go to her grave immediately after the burial. Because going there means accepting that she's gone.

**x x x **

[play]

That day, he is at least able to make the effort to journey to see his children for the first time in the three days since their birth and Christa's death.

They're unnamed at the moment. He can't think of any names or the ones that Christa had mentioned, maybe chosen in a way, so he'll decide on that a little later. Just… not now.

Omid can't help but notice both his son and his daughter look too damn much like their mother as they sleep, and it's enough to almost make him smile.

Almost.

**x x x**


End file.
